The Corn Theif
by SpanishToast
Summary: Violet ran away from home about 6 months ago and has been running ever since. But when she saves Sodapop from a gang of Socs, she finds a new family with the Curtis'. Soon to be Romance. Soon to be more chapters.
1. Casual Life-Savin

I won't tell you about what happened when I was a kid, but you should know that it was pretty bad. And I don't think you really want to know about it, honestly. Anyway, I got away from that place, okay? That's the important part. I ran away and I never really stopped. That was about 6 months ago, and I'm still okay, I promise.

People always look so sad when I tell them that I don't have a home. They get these little lines above their brows and sigh and nod. I can imagine them telling a friend about it later, calling me "a poor child, or a victim to circumstance" Or something like that. It's not bad though, this life I live, I mean, It's… It's not easy but it's a helluva lot better than before.

It's true that I don't have much to get by with. And it's true that food can sometimes be scarce, but I get by. I steal if I have to. I play the sympathy card if I have to. That's what I was up to most days anyway.

This one store, Lottie's, makes it easy on me. They leave the canned foods right at the door and have no security. So I opened the old thing, hardly on its hinges, and snagged a few cans. Lottie's was always clustered too, with people and great mounds of produce and toilet paper, bins and boxes and medicine, all haplessly thrown about. It reminded me of a squirrel's nest, especially with the wood-paneled walls and all. The best way to steal something is to act like you already bought it. So I didn't try to stuff them under my shirt or smuggle them out in a bag, I just smiled pleasantly and waltzed out. Noone stopped me, as is usual.

I look innocent. Smiling always makes you look innocent though. So with three new cans of something or another, I made my way down to the library. They don't let you eat there, of course, but that's where I stashed my food. There was this little vent at the side of the building that stayed cool, so for the past week that's where I put my things.

After I stashed what turned out to be corn, sweet potatoes and soup, I slumped against the shade of the building. It was a nice fall day, but the wind had started to get a little nip to it. I pulled my hat down farther and crossed my arms. I needed new clothes, too. Those are harder to come by but I had seen a few garage sales around and maybe I could beg my way into some new shoes or a coat. My current sneakers had holes in them now and wouldn't last much longer. And my 'coat' was just a jacket someone had left on a bench outside of Lottie's. It was at least three sizes too big, and smelled like boy, but it kept me warm so I didn't mid.

I thought about going inside to "read" or more accurately nap, on the free-to-use couches in the library, but I was comfortable enough. So I closed my eyes, pulled down my hat, and tried to sleep. It was only a few minutes of sitting there, when I heard a loud grunt. I guess you could call it that. It was the sound of someone getting beat to shit. I didn't really care, mind you. I had corn to guard after all, but I stood up anyway to look around. At the back of the library, there seemed to be a mosh pit forming. Probably the local gangs against each other. No thank you. I slumped back down.

I wasn't about to step into a fist fight with 10 or more guys. I'd do no help and probably end up unconscious, dead, or in the hospital. And hospitals were something I had to avoid. They were swarming with questions. They were swarming with those vile beings intent on sending me "home" So I stayed planted in the soft earth.

But the boy's groans got louder. The back of the library wasn't visible to anyone else, either, so they could go for as long as they wanted. No one would stop them. I would call the police but of course I didn't have a phone, and honestly probably wasn't doing the boy's a favor. The police around here were mean and brutal. So I did what any rational person would do, picked up a small rock and chucked it at one of boys.

He was thunked with it in the arm, and turned around. By then I had crouched in the shrub though, so he turned back around. I think they were kicking him, the boy I mean, He seemed to be on the ground and he wasn't making much sound anymore. I got worried.

I stepped out of the bush and cautiously walked toward them. There were about five, not 10, but they looked menacing. They were all.. dirty, sinister looking boys. About 17 in age, but old enough to have some scruff lining their jaw. I shuddered. Then, gentley as I could, tapped the tall one on the shoulder.

He flipped around so fast, hand raised, ready to beat anyone close to him to a pulp. I smiled. "Uh, Um, Hi there." I said. He snarled, "What do you want whore?" God, I love that. When all girls turn into whores in the presence of an asshole. It's beautiful. I kept my compsure though,

"I just, um, well I was wondering why you were in this here circle?" I gestured, to the tight cluster of shitheads.

"Mind your own damn business"

"Please, can you just leave him alone? It doesn't prove much when it's five against one. If you wanna beat the shit out of him, and he might deserve it, shouldn't you do it by yourself? It's more impressive."

The little shit scoffed at me and, from the looks of it, kicked the boy again, spat on his face, and then walked away. His troop of gorillas followed, trying to be thuggish, looking like children. When They were gone, I rushed to the clump of flesh on the ground.

He was bloody, bruised and swollen on almost every part of his body. Lifting up his shirt, I saw deep purple blotches up and down his ribcage. Broken, probably. He wasn't dead though, In fact, his eyes were open and staring me down. Short, sharp breaths came out of his split lip, and a guttural moan followed. "I'm Violet. Calm down, okay? You're gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine." I took off my old jacket and bunched it up under his head. "Okay, see, we're good. Aren't we? Yeah." My hands were in a frenzy of trying to assess what was broken and what was just bruised. When he tried to move, I shoved him back down and took his hand. I saw nurses and doctors do that a lot, so I figured there must be a reason. "Do you want me to call an ambulance?" He shook his head, "Okay, police?" He shook his head harder, and his eyes got noticeably darker. "No police. Got it."

He tried to get up again, and this time I let him, at least sit up. "What's ya name?" I asked, still holding his bloody hand. He grunted and swayed a little. "Soda."

"Sorry, what?"

"Name. Is. Soda" He swayed again, but I held him up.

"Right. Okay Soda, now where's your family? Do you have family?"

He said nothing for a minute, just closed his eyes and breathed deep, shuddering painful things. "Can. You. Get my phone?" He said, nodding to a little black flip phone that was lying in the grass about 4 feet over. I grabbed it and went through the contacts.

"Who should I call?"

"Pony."

I wondered if he was delusional. I wondered if he lost all his memory or he had brain damage or he had internal bleeding and this pony fellow was all fictional. But I looked through the contacts nevertheless, and sure enough, there he was, Ponyboy Curtis.

I called him and he didn't answer for a few rings, so I watched Soda as I waited. His eyes were closed and he looked like it was talking all the effort in the world not to fall over. I rubbed his shoulder. "It's alright"

Then I heard the alleged Ponyboy. "What?" He said, with a gruff, deep voice.

"Hi, do you know a guy named Soda?"

"Sodapop? What happened? Is he okay? Where is he?" It all came out in one breath.

"He. He's okay, but you need to come get him. He was um in a fight. Well not really. They were the only ones doing any fighting. He's at, um, the back of the library, the Brookfield Library, and he's not real good. And you should come quick, okay?"

"I'm on my way." And then he snapped the connection.

"Okay… Soda, well your friend is on the way, okay?" He nodded, and sunk his head into his hands. This guy was about my age, 17 or so, and with long-ish black hair. Truthfully, he would probably be attractive if I wasn't so afraid he was gonna die. "Is he your brother?" I asked, because, well they both had pretty unique names. He nodded again.

For a while, we just sat there and waited. I didn't try and get too close and he didn't make any sounds, so I had no reason to try and baby him. I noticed my jacket was still on the ground and I started to get cold, so I put it back on. The front now had little blood drops on it, you know, adding to the whole hygiene thing.

When Pony came, he was running, and he dove next to his brother as soon as he saw them. Didn't look at me for a few minutes, just whispered to Soda, scuffed his hair and then hugged him. I felt awkward being there, this wasn't about me of course, I knew that, but I couldn't help but feel out of place. I never had family like that. Never had friends like that, either. Soda looked like his brother: same hair, same sort of clothes. When he finally looked up at me, he just nodded. "What's your name kid?"

"Violet."

"Well thank you Violet. I think you probably saved him." He looked back down at Soda, who was still curled in on himself. "Now, Could you help me get him to the car?" I nodded and walked over.

We both hooked our arms around his shoulders and walked him slowly to the truck waiting at the front of the Library. He grunted a few times, but seemed okay. We laid him down in the back and Pony got in the front. I was about to walk away, too, but then Pony called after me. "Hey, come with us? We could use your help flower."

Logically, I should have said no. Any rational, life-loving person, would not have climbed into a sketchy truck that reeked of booze with two boys that obviously had some bad connections. But I guess I wasn't that rational after he called me a flower. Who does that? Anyway, I climbed on in with them, smiled at Ponyboy and closed the door.


	2. In which I play Doctor

Their house was bigger than most in the city, but it was run down. Looked like it could be haunted kind of run down, with the whole broken shutters look and crumbling foundations. But, underneath all of that filth and abuse, it was pretty lovely. It looked like a home where a nice little cliché could live, golden retriever and everything. It looked like a place that would accommodate a lemonade stand on its lawn. It made me smile and I'm not sure why.

Ponyboy was focused on Soda the entire way home. Every few seconds, "Are you okay" and then "Are you sure" and then finally, "Thank God you're alive." I helped move him inside, and after he had collapsed on the couch, Ponyboy ran to get the first aid kit. He sighed when he came back, and dropped it on the ground. "I suck at this" He said, "This… Doctor Thing," he gestured at the first aid kit and frowned.

Soda, from the miserable state he was in, let out a breathy laugh, followed by a moan. "Shit, man, just have her do it."

"Flower?"

I looked up, after I had been categorizing the medical supplies. Not even sure why I looked up, since my name ISN'T EVEN FLOWER. "Can, um, do you know how to stich?" He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at the pile of gauze on the floor. "I don't really like blood."

Yeah, I knew how to stich. Did that mean I wanted to? Did that mean I was willing to? What if Mr. Soda here had AIDS, hmm? Okay, so maybe that was a little paranoid, but I wasn't about to get all touchy-doctory with this kid. I shrugged. "Oh, c'mon flower, it's not that much."

I sighed, Ponyboy looked pathetic and Sodapop looked worse, so I guess I didn't really have a choice. "Take of your shirt," I said, grabbing the stich kit. There was something horrible about him not being able to lift of his shirt, it made me want to just hug him and stroke his hair and stuff. It was just immensely pathetic. Ponyboy ended up helping him though, and with his shirt off I could see just how badly he was hurt.

Deep purple and red blotches ran up his ribs and a short but deep gash was right under his arm. "Did one of them have a knife?" I asked, sitting down at the foot of the couch and examining the cut further. He didn't answer, probably because it was implied. So I got to work. I wiped away the blood best I could with the little disinfectants and then leaned over him to start stitching.

It was awful. Stitching has always been awful for me, I felt like Frankenstein constructing his monster. It was intensely disturbing to feel the pull of the skin on the needle and the blood where it broke through. But the worst part, by far, is their face. Some scream, but Soda just looked up at the ceiling and grit his teeth. Once or twice he groaned, but for the most part he was silent. When I finished, I taped down a big strip of gauze and sank into the couch.

"Thanks, now I'm sorry for dragging you into all this. Can I take you to your home sweet home?" Pony asked, smiling at me.

I laughed, without meaning to, laughed in his face. "What?" He said.

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

"Nothing to tell"

"Why were you laughing" Ponyboy seemed concerned for some reason, but I put it off.

"Listen, I don't really need a lift okay?"

"Do you even know where we are? It's not big deal, I can drop you somewhere. You saved Soda's life. And I'm not about to let you out in the street without you being safe."

I laughed again. A habit that, apparently, I really needed to stop. And before I could stop the traitorous words, I said, "Yeah, love, I'll be alright. Been 'safe' for a while now."

Soda seemed to have fallen asleep, probably from the pills Ponyboy gave him, so what he said next was in a whisper. "Hey, do you not have anywhere to go?"

I pulled my hat down and sighed, "I'm alright." I said, and got up to walk out.

But Pony met me there, and grabbed my wrist. "Answer me."

"Go away."

"I'm trying to help."

"Well I don't need any"

"Just let me feed you dinner," He said, smiling sadly, "For saving my brother?"

I sighed. I was hungry, and truthfully, canned foods were all starting to taste the same. "Alright." I said, dropping my hand from the doorknob. "Sorry. Um. For being so snappy."

"Nah, it's fine. Don't worry about it. I've been there. The streets are tough."

I didn't know what to say to that. So I ended up looking around his house. "Hey do you have any cleaning stuff that'll get out this blood?" I said, gesturing to the disgusting jacket I had on.

"I have a better idea" he said, and scampered off, "You stay right there. I'll be right back."

So I just kinda stood there. Shifted my feet, and then caught my reflection in a mirror on the wall. God, I had seen better days. My hair was a knotted, which was horrible because I cut it short purely to avoid that. Sure, it had grown to about my ears but was that really knot-able? It was probably my hat's fault. This old beanie thing that my best friend had given me the night I ran away. It was an ugly ass hat: knitted bright green and grey. At this point, it had a few holes in it too. But I wore it anyway because it was warm and was more interesting than hair. People had often told me I looked frail, or sickly, but that was just because I was so tall. I was about 5'7" and pretty skinny after living off of nothing but refried beans and soggy carrots. But I wasn't sickly. In fact, I could probably kick some hard core ass if I felt so inclined. I was no 'flower'. My parents, allegedly, named me Violet because I was born with purple-ish eyes, but those faded into grey anyway, so the joke's on them.

By the time Ponyboy came back, I had soothed my hair into something slightly more respectable and wiped the dirt from my skin. He handed me some clothes, and I raised my eyebrows. "What's this?"

"It's some of Sodapop's old stuff. He grew out of it but I think It might fit you. Well it'll probably still be too big, but try it on."

I glanced down at the stuff in my hands. It was a shirt, two hoodies and some jeans. I smiled. "Thank you." I said, "Do you have a restroom I can change in?"

He gestured down the hall. The clothes didn't fit too badly, at least the hoodies were still soft and smelled nice, but the jeans swallowed me whole. I switched back into my other jeans, which really weren't too bad. They were faded and holy but I hear that's the style now.

God, I looked so normal in these clothes. I looked like a kid you would find just chilling on the couch watching TV or something. It felt good. I washed the blood off of my hands and felt content for the first time in weeks.


	3. Chocolate Cake

Dinner was good. I mean, I wouldn't call Ponyboy's macaroni gourmet, but it was a hell of a lot better than canned corn. And it was warm, the first warm meal I'd had in weeks. Soda had joined us at the table, but he leaned in his chair awkwardly, so I knew he was still hurting. For some reason or another, though, he was smiling and talking up a storm. This kid, I swear, who had just been stabbed and beaten, was sitting here talking about nothing. Pony nodded and added a few "uh huh"s but he was mostly silent like me. I ate my macaroni in careful observation of Soda. He amused me.

Dinner ended quickly, and with not a scrap to spare. I offered to help clean, because I'm pretty sure that's what you're supposed to do, but Ponyboy waved me off. "C'mon, I wouldn't make you do that." He said, and snagged the bowls off the table. I started getting ready to leave, stood up, brushed off my new hoodie and thanked him for dinner. But as I was getting up Soda called "Hey," his voice was quieter than before, "Where ya going?" I shrugged, and nodded toward the door.

"I was gonna go."

"Nah," He said, "You have to meet Darry. He'll be all grateful and such, and you don't wanna miss that, do ya?" He smiled. "I mean, you did save me and everything. Probably deserve more than macaroni. Probably."

I smiled. "I really have to get going." I said, and started walking to the door. Honestly though, it hurt as I crossed the room. I knew it was cold outside, and this house was so warm and even with my new clothes, it was going to be a hard night. So when I shuffled to the door, and it opened before I got there, I was almost glad. A guy came in, about 22 or so, and slammed the door behind him. He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Soda?" He called, not taking his eyes off me. "Why is there a random girl in our house?"

I shifted awkwardly. "I'm.. Hi. I'm Violet." I smiled my least conspicuous smile.

"And I'm Darrel," he said, moving past me and to the kitchen. I thought about just leaving. I thought about leaving but then I remembered I had no idea where I was. And it was dark. And it was not the best place in town, especially for someone like me. I sighed instead.

I heard Ponyboy telling Darrel what happened, in a hushed tone, and then I heard Darrel say, "Well why are you letting her leave?"

There was silence for a minute, and then Darrel came back. "Listen, kid, I'm not letting you walk home. It's not safe, okay? We can drive you home or you can stay here, if your folks are all right with that."

I didn't laugh this time, just looked at my feet. "Alright." I said, rubbing my shoulder. "Um, I don't really have anywhere to go, but um, I'm alright." I looked up to see Darrel looking at me with, shockingly, the same face as before. No pity, no sad, "oh look at the kicked dog" eyes. I appreciated that.

"Well then it's settled. You can sleep on the couch or something," He said, crossing his arms, and nodded toward the living room.

Soda was sitting at the table still, and smiled when I walked in the room. "Violet." He said, and sighed and let out an exaggerated and theatre-worthy, "my Savvvvior."

I laughed a little, and sat down next to him. "Who were those guys anyway?"

"Ah, nobodies," He said, "Nothing I can't take."

I cocked an eyebrow.

"Okay, okay, it may not have looked like I was winning. But trust me, I was. I was just wearing down their stamina first, you see." He said, with a coy smile. His hair fell a little farther forward, and I looked away.

"Those guys were Socs," Darrel said, from the other side of the room, "And don't get mixed up with them."

The rest of the night was spent talking, well, mostly listening to Soda. Ponyboy pulled out some chocolate cake at some point and it was amazing. I'm not saying this because I'm some food-deprived hobo, either. The cake was the best thing I had eaten since I don't know when. I raved about it for the rest of the night, and Darry, who had made the thing, offered me two more pieces for breakfast. I think that was my incentive for not running away when I woke up.

Ponyboy gave me a hole-ridden but soft quilt and a pillow, and offered up the couch. I took it gleefully and flopped down on it when the boys had gone to bed. I liked the weight of the blanket against me, and the hum of the radiator, and how my limbs tangled in the soft couch and softer quilt. I liked having a pillow. God, I loved having a pillow. I liked how I wasn't thinking of food, or if I was going to be alright if I fell asleep. This security, this peace, was so pleasant I stayed up for a while just soaking it in. But eventually, I fell asleep.

My dreams were nightmares. I dreamed about the rough, calloused hands that had grabbed at me when I was only six. I remember being told to stay still. I dreamed of things I would give anything to forget about. I dreamed about my father, if you can call him that, and all the horrible things he did. I woke up out of breath and crying.

It was still dark. Dark enough to not be able to tell if my eyes were even open or not, so it only made me more aware of the sound of my choking breath. It cut the silence. I wiped away the tears that fell without my permission and wrapped myself tighter in the quilt. Those dreams weren't uncommon, they had tortured me into near insanity some nights, but I had hoped they would get better after I ran. If anything, they got worse.

I ran my hands through my hair and tried to calm down, but couldn't. My breath still came out in shuddering gasps and my thoughts could focus only on this fear that was drowning me. I stumbled my way off the couch and in some general direction. I still couldn't see, and wasn't really familiar with the house's layout, so I ran into a door, I think it was a door, and slumped down.

I did what my best friend, Ellie, had taught me to do when I was panicking. List the periodic table. I know it's weird, okay? I know that no sane person would be in a dark hallway, slumped against a door and muttering "Antimony, Arsenic, Aluminum, Selenium" But there I was. A lunatic in a knit hat, on the floor of some stranger's house. And that's exactly what Soda found when he opened the door behind me. He nearly tripped on me, and when he realized I was on the floor, Soda jumped a little and flipped on the light.

I couldn't look at him. I mean, what was the social protocol for this kind of thing? Should I just run? That would be good. I should run. I should…

Soda dropped down to the ground next to me. He put his hand on my shoulder, "Hey, are you alright?" I looked up. His face was still bruised and his lip was cut down the middle, but he still seemed more put together than I was.

I shrugged his hand off and said, "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Just had a bad dream is all."

"Why are you in the hallway?"

"I should go." I stood up, but my legs were a little wobbly so I stumbled. And I still couldn't see, save the small light coming from Soda's room. My escape was looking pretty unrealistic. Soda stood up too. I turned away from him and tugged on my hat.

"Listen, Violet, I know you ain't alright. Lemme get you some water or something." Soda's voice was soft, the kind of voice you would reserve for a kid or something. And I hated it. I knew that I warranted that kind of voice right now, but it still made me cringe. And when he left to the kitchen, I walked the opposite direction. It didn't make any sense to leave, especially given the circumstance, but I was panicked and wasn't thinking rationally.

The door creaked, almost seemed to scream, when I opened it. I slipped out into night and didn't mind too much that air was cold and I didn't know my way back.


End file.
